


Wenn Liebe In Dir Ist

by Kummerspeck7



Category: Royal Pains
Genre: Cohabitation, Falling In Love, Long, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 21:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12093720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kummerspeck7/pseuds/Kummerspeck7
Summary: When Boris fell in love, when Hank fell in love, and when it was finally spoken aloud.





	Wenn Liebe In Dir Ist

It started twelve hours earlier in Zurich. The boardroom was unseasonably hot and the company utterly unbearable. I could feel my dress shirt plastered to my back with sweat, but I certainly wasn't about to take off my suit coat and let them win. I wouldn't let them see my discomfort.

“Boris, surely you see we can't negotiate that.” One of the men cooed, as if it would make him less repugnant to me.

“I believe we're here to negotiate that.” I answered blandly. “That amount allocated to overhead is unacceptable.”

“It's the price of doing business.” Another grunted.

“Then it seems we've reached an impasse.” I nodded as I stood and turned towards the door.

There was a clamor behind me as the room exploded into chaos, but I didn't particularly care. I would find someone else for this project. There had to be a better option. Glancing at my watch I considered my next action. One of the men was trying to get me to return to the meeting as we walked through a corridor towards the exit. It was five in the evening, which made it nine in the morning at Shadow Pond. It would take two hours to have the jet ready, the flight was eight hours, then another hour home from the airfield. I could be home in time to unwind with a drink and a cigar.

I brushed the man off as my car pulled up to the curb. I considered texting Hank to ask if he was amenable to joining me for the night. It brought a small smile to my lips. The past six weeks with the good doctor had been incredible. He was so easy to be around, so kind and unlike anyone else ever to make my acquaintance. When work necessitated travel we talked every day and somehow I still found myself missing him. 

The enormity of my affection was baffling, even to me. The last four days in Europe had crawled by at a snail's pace, dragging along through dinners and meetings I would generally have found enjoyable. I loved Zurich, I loved the wine, my favorite chef's table was there. It didn't matter, I felt his absence acutely. All I could think was ‘I'll have to tell Hank about this’ or 'Hank would enjoy this’ or I would lose track of a conversation because I was thinking about when Hank would be free to accompany me on a visit in the future. My behavior was completely at odds with the person I saw myself as. 

My phone rang. There were two people on the line, one speaking Russian and the other Cantonese. I needed to focus, but I couldn't seem to. They kept throwing out numbers and statistics in competing languages. A headache began to nag at my temples, but I actually found myself smiling. Two weeks ago I'd awoken with a splitting migraine. I'd gone for my swim, had my espresso, even had a real breakfast, but nothing improved it. Then Hank had arrived with his smile and his gentle teasing. He'd put some ice cubes against my temples, and it had actually worked. Near instant relief.

He'd even coaxed me into laying back down until lunch, escorting me to my bedroom and closing my blinds. He'd insisted no one could rest with that much light, he was surprised I didn't have a headache every morning with ‘that golden ceiling making the room so bright’. I’d quipped that I could endure the hardship. Then he'd surprised me by laying down as well. He stayed with me through the morning, the room was dark and quiet, he was beside me… And I slept. I slept through lunch, until almost two. It was longer than I slept most nights. When I awoke, Hank was still beside me. 

I told him I never napped during the day. He said my Noble ancestors were probably ashamed, one of their bloodlines working so hard

“Nyet, Boris?” The voice on the phone questioned. Sheiße.

“Send me the documents, I'll review them and get back to you.” I answered authoritatively, then ended the call.

The landscape rushed by in the window as we passed a vineyard that specialized in ice wine. I had spent some time there, they had some excellent hiking trails on their premises. Hank was most often free in the winter months, but Europe was so much more lively in the summer. Perhaps spring was the ideal choice. I shook my head. I had work to do, I needed to find a different company to help with my project. I checked my email and looked at the file that had just arrived--Two hundred pages. I really should have focused more on that conversation.

My phone buzzed.

Good morning! Hope your meeting went well. -H

I considered my reply. 

Not so good, Hank

I would surprise him. He'd like that. 

We pulled up to the airport an hour later, and still no word from Hank. Perhaps there had been one of his medical emergencies. Or an Eddie related situation. Or an Evan related situation. Or maybe he was just busy. Though for some reason, that didn't sit well with me.

I boarded my jet and took my preferred seat. How many times had Hank joined me here? Dozens, at least. We'd talked about his family, my family, his childhood, mine. What it was like to lose our parents, what our favorite card games were. I'd watched him sleep, I'd looked up and caught him watching me read. I'd nearly kissed him here after a few glasses of port made me careless in keeping my emotions under control. I did kissed him three hours later while we stood on the terrace at Shadow Pond.

I opened my laptop while shaking my head. I had two hundred pages to read. I had work to do.

Ten hours, the two hundred page report, ninety three emails, and sixteen phone calls later, we pulled into the drive. I was long past exhaustion, but determined to go through with my plans. Still no text messages from Hank.

“Willkommen zu Hause.” Udo greeted with a nod as I got out of the car. 

“Danke. Es ist eine schöne Nacht.” I returned, then nodded to assure him I had no needs for him to attend to.

As he bowed and departed, I made my way towards the guesthouse. It was about ten in the evening, Hank would probably be enjoying one of his vile American brews and watching a sport. Truth be told, I was becoming rather fond of baseball. We'd even taken in a game together while visiting Vermont a month ago, sitting on the concrete steps that served as seating and cheering with locals who didn't seem to mind their team was incapable of scoring. Hank had even stolen a couple of kisses between innings.

I frowned slightly as the guest house came into view. It seemed as if every light was on, the whole place was illuminated. Perhaps he was having some sort of dinner party. Some emotion I wasn't entirely used to weighed on me, but I chose not to dwell on it. I wouldn't intrude, he wasn't expecting me back for a few days yet. Perhaps I could see him after his work was complete tomorrow. It wouldn't be a surprise, but then I wasn't much for surprises anyway.

I turned back towards Shadow Pond and tried to divert the feeling with a brisk walk through the courtyard. It didn't help. I was jealous and disappointed. I wanted his attention, I'd been looking forward to an evening with him. Being alone had grown tiresome at some point, I enjoyed our easy companionship. I liked being able to talk without worrying that my words could be weaponized and used against me in the future. 

Hank would never hurt me.

I entered the house, large and dark. I Navigating the maze of corridors and stairs was simple after living here for so many years. It was good to be home, I insisted to myself. There was a lovely cigar and brandy waiting for me in my study. I could take it on the balcony and enjoy the warm summer night. One should enjoy one's own company.

There was a dim light coming from under the door to my study. Perhaps Udo had anticipated my coming here. I was a creature of habit and order if there ever was one, and he'd come to know me quite well since his hiring. I made a mental note to thank him as I pushed open the door.

It was Hank. He was on my couch, wrapped tightly in a chenille throw and thoroughly engrossed in a book. 

I could become all too used to this. 

It popped into my head unbidden. I could share my days with this man, I could share my life with him. He was my foil, spontaneous and exuberant. Even his visit here was unexpected and wonderful-just like him. I wanted to sit beside him, to run my hands through his hair, to hold him, to kiss him. Yet I also wanted to stay right where I was near the door and just watch him until the end of time. He was precious to me, he was dear to me.

I loved him.

It was that simple and that clear. I loved him, and now that I knew it, I knew there was no earthly way I could ever return to not loving him. It was as natural to me as breathing and just as impossible to stop. I stood there drinking in every detail, every minutiae of the moment. I wanted to remember everything about this. My mouth was dry, my heart was pounding. 

I loved him.

He turned the page, still totally unaware of my presence. I wanted him to live with me. I wanted to see him like this all the time, relaxed and totally at home. In my entire life only a small handful of people had been completely comfortable in my company, and none would have ever considered my office a cozy place to read a book. Except him. To him a house was just a place to live and a person was just a person, regardless if you were a fish monger or a doctor or a Baron. He was special.

Special enough that I wanted to share my life with him. I wanted to wake up with him and the morning and fall into bed beside him at night. I wanted to share meals and trips and time with him. I wanted so much more than was appropriate to ask after a paltry six weeks.

“Surprise.” I finally murmured.

“Boris! You're home!” He nearly shouted while tucking the book by his side and simultaneously attempting to extricate himself from his blanket cocoon. 

I joined him on the couch and used the blanket to draw him in for a short kiss. “I've missed you, Hank.”

“I missed you, too.” He answered. “So, it doesn't bother you that I invited myself over?”

“No, I've quite enjoyed finding you here.” I promised him. “I set out to surprise you, actually. And yet I find myself the one surprised.”

“Being at the right place at the right time uninvited in your home is becoming a habit of mine.”

It was an opportunity. “You're always welcome, and I hope that you will be open to spending a great deal of time here. The guest house is due for renovations this fall, I'd hoped you would join me here for the duration. You and that book you're trying to hide beside you.”

“It was a gift from a patient.” He demurred, trying to stuff it deeper between the cushions. “And of course I'd love to stay with you. Evan is having a dinner party tonight, it's actually the funniest story-”

I reached over him and snatched it away. “ ‘Baron of Pleasure: The Long Awaited Sequel to The Other Side of Ecstasy’--The sequel? So you've read more than one in the series.”

“So the funny story about the dinner party-” He changed the subject as he tried to take the book back.

I started to read the back cover. “ ‘The Baron of Weston was determined never to fall in love, until one day he met’-”

Hank's mouth covered mine as he grabbed the book and dropped it behind the couch. He climbed onto my lap while his hands started pulling at the buttons on my shirt.

Baron of Pleasure, indeed.

*-*-*

“You look really great tonight, Boris.” I said as I caught sight of him.

Every inch of his impressive height was enhanced by the black tuxedo perfectly tailored to him. He was still deftly fastening his platinum and sapphire cufflinks as he looked up. 

“You as well.” He murmured appreciatively. “Pass me that sash?”

“This one?” I asked quizzically, handing him a gold and black sash with a thin blue line running through it from the bed.

“Family colors.” He said by way of explanation as he attached it to his pristine white vest and slid on his tuxedo jacket. “I prefer not to wear it, but when one attends a white tie event…”

I laughed. “Well of course one must wear one's family colors, then.”

“I-” He stopped, shaking his head slightly. “I find you very endearing, Hank.”

I kissed him, a sweet brush of lips on lips. He pulled me closer, wrapping an arm around my waist as he crushed my mouth to his and took full possession of it. My hands roamed his back, stroked his neck, buried themselves in his hair. Finally he broke for air.

“The car is waiting.” He said huskily. 

“Then we should go.” I murmured back.

His lips descended to mine again, hungry for more. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. I didn't even notice we'd been moving until I felt my legs hit the back of the bed. Pulling him down onto the bed with me seemed like the logical next step. I wanted more, I wanted his skin on mine.

Of course, that was the moment a polite knock came from the door. Boris took a deep breath in and out. “Right.”

I laughed a little at the sight of my unflappable Boris looking ruffled. I straightened his sash, and we both headed out to the car. He was very quiet, only nodding at his employees as he passed, which was unusual. 

“You okay?” I asked under my breath as we slid into the backseat of his car.

He caught my hand in his. “I'm glad you came.”

“And miss seeing the castle you grew up in? Never.” I'd been hoping for pictures of him as a kid, or pictures of his family. But aside from one oil painting, I'd been disappointed. “So what is this white tie shindig you're bringing me to?”

“Ah.” His eyes flicked to the car window, then back. “It's an annual gathering of the titled European nobility.”

“Huh.” I responded. “Sounds like a pretty big event.”

“It is.” He confirmed, then fell silent.

“Anything I should know or do?” I prodded.

“No.” He stated simply. 

I decided to leave it alone and look out the window. It was largely dark, thick forests and tiny hamlets around us from what I'd seen. I knew Innsbruck was nearby, we'd visited a few days ago. In two more days we'd be traveling to South Tyrol, stopping for wine and hiking, and a week in southern Italy. Twelve entire days together. 

“Almost there.” Boris said quietly, startling me out of my thoughts.

“Is this party at a castle?” I asked as one came into view. It was exactly what I imagined a castle from the middle ages would look like. Parapets and ramparts and battlements and square brick.

Boris nodded. “Yes, but not that one. This is a special event.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “That castle isn't good enough? Are you sure it's okay for me to be at this party?”

He smiled that little smile of his. “You will be the most intriguing person there.”

“With you there? International Man of Mystery?” I teased.

“I thought I was a Bond Villain, last I knew your opinion.” He stated archly. 

“Oh no. We're not having the ‘Shark in Your Basement’ talk again… What's going on?” I asked as the car pulled up to a tree lined dirt road.

“You have to take the coach to the front gates. It's ostentatious, but it's tradition.” He said, very blasé about the whole situation.

The car slowly pulled to a stop, and together we exited it and went to wait by the path. Almost immediately I could hear horses in the distance, then they pulled into sight. They were tall and muscular, pulling a golden carriage behind them. A footman lept from his perch and opened the door for us, bowing deeply as we moved to climb in.

“You didn't mention the carriage was gold.” I murmured.

“It's just paint. Well, aside from the handles. Now the horses are what should impress you. Using Arabians to pull a carriage. It's like making your breakfast with Faberge eggs.” He undertoned.

The door snapped shut behind us, and the coach started to glide. I'd always assumed carriages were bumpy or creaky, but this one was like riding in one of Boris’ luxury cars. You couldn't even tell the road below us was dirt. It wound up the mountainside, up the surprisingly even path, until I saw lights poking out of the top of the mountain. 

“Wow.” I breathed as the castle came into view.

It was enormous, I couldn't even fathom how tall. Light shone brightly from hundreds of windows, creating a lovely glow around all the spires and towers. It looked like the Disney castle, but bigger. 

“Lovely, no?” Boris asked, pulling my hand to his lips. “Willkommen in Schloß Neuschwanstein.”

“You were right. It's way better than that other castle, which is definitely a sentence I don't see myself saying too often.”

The carriage stopped, and the footman appeared out of nowhere to assist us out. The doors of the castle before us were at least thirty feet tall, probably more, with an enormous lion carved into the wood. They swung open at our approach, assailing us with the noise from within. Hundreds and hundreds of voices, clinking of crystal, what sounded like a full orchestra in the background. 

“The Baron Kuster von Jurgens-Ratenicz and Doctor Lawson.” We were announced as we crossed the threshold.

The entry was completely filled with people, several of whom looked up after hearing Boris’ name. One of his hands moved to rest on my lower back as he gently guided me through a massive door to our left.

“This is amazing.” I said, looking up at the vaulted ceilings and thirty foot tall windows.

“It really is.” Boris murmured back. “I would love for you to see it without the crush of people. I'll ask Rhinebeck when we see him.”

“You really think he'd let us?” I asked while looking at the incredibly intricate mosaic on the floor.

Boris plucked two glittering crystal champagne flutes from a passing tray and handed one to me. “Of course. He is my cousin.” 

“Boris!” A woman to our left exclaimed.

“Viscomtesse.” Boris said with a polite nod. It was a chilly reception, even by his standards.

She appeared to be in her mid thirties or early forties, wearing a midnight blue gown. “Ça va?”

“I would prefer English, out of respect to my companion.” Boris said smoothly.

The woman looked like she might frown for a second, then smiled. “He only speaks English! How terribly American. What a fashionable choice you've made.”

“I'm not a hat.” I said before I could stop myself. She looked nearly affronted for just a moment, but then the smiling mask was back. It didn't take a lot to see why Boris didn't like her.

“He certainly is much more substantive than that.” Boris said, putting his hand on my lower back. “If you'll excuse us.”

“I didn't embarrass you back there, did I?” I murmured as we got out of earshot.

“No, you've saved me a great deal of trouble.” He said quietly into my ear. “The Viscomtesse has been harassing me about marriage since we were school children. I believe she'll finally be leaving me alone, at least for tonight.”

“And I thought Becky Saperstein trying to kiss me on the playground was bad.” I said, taking a sip of champagne.

Boris smirked. “With my status and position, I've long been considered quite the catch.”

I leaned up to murmur in his ear, lightly pressing myself against him. “The only position I'm interested in is the one under you later.”

His hand drifted slightly lower on my back. “Ten minutes and already a most diverting evening with you beside me. And in any other position you might like to assume in the future.”

“I can think of a few.” I casually mentioned. His gaze darkened as his eyes swept over my body.

Before he could answer another woman was talking to us. This one was enormously tall, older, with familiar striking blue eyes. Boris looked genuinely happy to see her, speaking back in rapid Russian.

“Are you related?” I asked during a brief lull in the conversation.

“The Countess Romanov.” Boris said formally while she rolled her eyes.

“Boris’ mother was my cousin. You can call me Tetka Katerina just like my sensitive plemyannik Borya.” She informed me robustly.

Boris looked like he was about to argue being referred to as ‘sensitive’, but before he could two men came over. They spoke to him quickly in a language I didn't understand and he nodded perfunctorily. Maybe I would ask him to teach me a third language, I was starting to understand why he spoke twelve.

“I'm needed for a moment. If you'll excuse me.”

“You knew Boris as a child?” I asked conspiratorially as he walked away.

“Such a sensitive little boy. Small for his age,too. Once when he was about five he and his mother came to visit and she decided they should visit the farm on our estate. Well, sensitive child he was, our Borya fell in love with a lamb. I believe he even named the little thing. He went back two days later, and she was gone. He was crushed, our sweet child, and Sofia-his mother, but of course you know that-coddled him. He cried for the rest of the week.” She said fondly.

I looked over to where Boris stood, face impassive, talking to the men who had borrowed him. I wondered if the Countess had any pictures from that trip. Or other trips.

“What about as a teenager?” I pryed. 

“Well.” She said, looking around to ensure no one was listening in. “I once caught him being… Indiscreet with a milk maid. And two of her friends. Though now that I'm thinking about it, that may have been his cousin, Dmitry. They were very close, you know. Yes, that was definitely Dmitry. I passed Boris in the hall on my way there. Scamp probably knew what I'd find, he's always been cunning, our Borya.”

“Boris let you catch Dmitry with three women?” I asked, surprised.

She started to laugh. “I remember now. Boris liked the milk maid, but Dmitry stole his notebook of poetry--Did you know Boris used to write poetry? I hear it was the only thing he had no natural gift for, though I never read it myself--And read it to the girls. They thought Dmitry was so suave.”

“Their loss.” I said, taking another sip of champagne. “Your nephew is very exceptional.”

“He does come from the finest blood. And my cousin, for being too soft, raised him very well.” She tilted her champagne flute heavenward. I followed her lead.

“You can't keep him all to yourself, Katerina.” An elderly woman in a massive purple dress said as she swept over. “We're all interested in Boris’ young man.”

“The Duchesse du Roquefort.” Boris’ sort-of-aunt informed me. “Eleanor, this is Doctor Henry Lawson.”

“It's nice to meet you.” I said politely, taking her proffered hand.

“A doctor!” She exclaimed. “Let me tell you about my poor darling Bisou…”

I watched Boris from across the room as I sipped at my champagne and listened to the Duchesse du Roquefort bemoan the ills of her elderly spaniel. He raised an eyebrow when he saw who I was trapped listening to, and so subtly I nearly missed it, he winked.

Suddenly it was painfully, excruciatingly, exquisitely clear to me. I loved him.

I loved his subtle expressions, his strength, his warmth. I loved his laugh and the timbre of his voice. I loved his wit and his dark humor and his devotion. I loved the softness of his lips and how they tasted slightly of brandy and cigars at night. I loved the feeling of the mattress sinking down when he would finally join me in bed, knowing that I could throw an arm over him and hold him close until the morning. I loved waking up to him doing the New York Times crossword beside me in pen, then making him forget English twenty minutes later while he called out my name and begged me not to stop, never to stop.

I loved him.

“Duchesse, always excellent to see you.” A voice from behind me said. 

An anticipatory shiver ran through me, I’d been so deep in my thoughts I hadn't even seen him move. His hand claimed its spot on my back as he took his place beside me. I loved having him near me, it always felt so right-- and the tiny smile on his lips seemed to suggest he felt the same way. 

“Boris, I've told you a hundred times to call me Aunt Eleanor. Just because your father was only my half cousin by marriage doesn't require you to use the title like we're hardly acquainted.” She chided. “We're family.”

“Of course.” Boris said graciously. “Though that makes the Vicomtesse’s matrimonial plans rather inappropriate.” 

“Oh, you're barely related.” She dismissed with a wave of her hand. “Now that you have such a handsome attache, I'm sure she'll move on.”

“He's hardly a handbag, Eleanor.” Katerina interjected brashly as she rolled her eyes. 

“I am very fortunate to have him.” Boris added as his fingers lightly but caressed my back. “If you don't mind, I'd like to take Hank to view the lake.”

“It was nice meeting you both.” I said as he led me towards a massive set of glass double doors.

The outside air was cool and quiet. The massive stone balcony overhung a precipice with nothing but forest as far as the eye could see. Forest, and an enormous glittering silver lake bathed in moonlight.

“That's Swan Lake.” Boris said softly. “It's where King Ludwig tragically died. He loved swans, their grace, their beauty, how they mate for life.”

“I think this is the most beautiful place I've ever been.” I replied, leaning slightly against him. 

“Me as well, Hank.” 

“You seem to have a lot of relatives here.” I observed after a few moments of silence, continuing to look out at the expanse of trees and moonlight before me.

“I have many relatives.” Boris evaded. Now I was curious.

“How many are here tonight?” I pressed.

“Directly? Perhaps a quarter. By lineage? Almost all of them one way or another.” He said as if it were exceedingly common to have hundreds of relatives attending a white tie nobility gala in a palace. Then a thought struck me.

“So… Was this you bringing me to meet your family?” I turned to look at him, unable to stop a smile.

He nodded slightly, almost brusque. “I'm aware of your reticence to meet one's family, but I am very fond of you, Hank. I've never brought anyone to this event before, nor have I ever wanted to. This is very… New to me. I hope that I have not overstepped?”

“I'm honored. Really. You mean a lot to me, too.” I lightly brushed my lips against his cheek. “So, your Tetka. Did you say her last name was-?” 

He nodded. “Yes, she's that Romanov. You're probably familiar with her uncle. My great uncle.”

I drained the rest of my glass. “Wow. That's a pretty crazy relation. She also told me about you as a child.”

Boris rolled his eyes. “She overstates things, and when she tells the story of the sheep she always forgets to mention she had it slaughtered and served for dinner that night to help me ‘learn about life’.”

“Did you really write poetry?” I teased.

His fingers immediately moved to pinch the bridge of his nose. “That woman. Yes, I did. A mark of shame on my youth.”

“Why did you stop?” I asked, curious. 

He looked back out over the forest for a moment. “My father died, and I became head of my family. I was a Baron, not a teenager. I couldn't risk it being found and the embarrassment it would cause. It was dreadful, really.”

“I'm not sure you're capable of ‘dreadful’ things. Morally ambiguous, sure. But not dreadful.” I teased. 

He gave me one of his slow, barely there smiles. “That is one of the reasons I- Why I find you so captivating. Before we met I was so stuck in my ways. Stagnant. You've always seen the best in me- in everyone, really- you've helped me grow more in the last year or so than I'd managed myself in the last twenty. I look forward to whatever comes next for us.”

“So do I.” I ran a hand over his cheek. “Though you give me too much credit, Boris. You were kind and generous and brilliant long before I arrived. Your family, who I really like already, confirmed it. Tonight has been wonderful. Thank you for bringing me.”

Tenderly he brushed his lips against mine. He murmured something that sounded important, but it was in German and I didn't quite catch it.

-*-*-

Bright rays of dawn streamed in through the windows, reflected off the gilded ceiling, and illuminated the room. Hank was curled against my side, his breath warm on my neck. Things were nearly perfect. Nearly. Carefully as not to wake him, I sat up and reached over to my bedside table to pick up the Sunday edition of the New York Times. A note in Udo’s perfunctory script was resting on top.

The construction will be complete next week. Would Sir like me to extend the timeline again?

I let a deep breath out while an increasingly familiar feeling of guilt nagged at me. I had invited Hank to temporarily live with me after our trip to Europe while I had the guest house plumbing repaired and the roof replaced. Neither of those things were immediately necessary, but it didn't hurt to plan ahead and it presented a pragmatic opportunity for a trial period of cohabitation. If it went badly, it was only temporary. 

Aside from those in my employ, I chose to live alone as an adult. I relished my privacy, delighted in my quiet solitude, savored being beholden to no one. I fully expected to find living with someone limiting and tiresome, no matter my feelings towards them. I should have known better than to underestimate the good doctor. 

Living with Hank exceeded all expectation. He frequently awoke before me to run with the dawn, even in winter. Sometimes he would join me in the shower, or else we would breakfast together if neither one of us were called away to a meeting-or in his case, a patient. We both worked long, erratic hours, then would meet in the evening. Sometimes for dinner, sometimes for a drink. It was idyllic. So idyllic, in fact, that it left me waiting for when it would stop being immensely enjoyable.

I delayed the crew. I had them paint. Then replace flooring. Then the bathrooms were gutted and rebuilt. A couple of weeks quickly became a couple of months, but Hank continued to be the highlight of my days. No matter how much time I spent with him, it was never enough. I always wanted more. I was finally greedy for something; riches couldn't make me smile like Hank, philanthropy didn't make me whistle in the halls, succeeding in business would never compare to the satisfaction I felt when we fell asleep together at night.

I watched the slumbering man beside me as he gently breathed in and out. He looked so at peace, so innocent in his sleep. I loved him with an enormity that was nearly alarming. That, of course, was the trouble. I couldn't tell him I loved him while I was deceiving him into living with me, but if I told him the guest house was complete... I didn't want him to leave, not even for a night. 

I could almost hear my mother chiding me-’You made your bed, now you have to lie in it’.

And nothing could be better than lying in bed with Hank Lawson. 

I quietly stuck Udo’s note in the bedside table drawer and opened my paper to the business section. I could make my decision about talking to Hank later. I had not yet found the ideal solution, but I would. I tried to focus on the paper before me. The headlines before me barely registered. Another crisis on Wall Street, a new CEO at Google, a rough explanation of the new business tax credits, all old news. Merck was down in stock, which should have pleased me, but I still found myself reading the same chart two or three times. I couldn't focus, the closing numbers blurred together incomprehensibly.

Perhaps the crossword would be a better choice. As I took my silver pen from the drawer my fingers brushed the note. Ignoring the uneasy feeling weighing on me, I read the clues.

Five and twelve letters for related recurring themes in Macbeth.

Guilt and… Condemnation

Comedic tale involving dishonesty

Farce

Eight letters, story of a guilty heart in the 19th c.

Darkness? Heart of Darkness? No, the second letter was an E.

Telltale. The Telltale Heart.

I should tell Hank. Not about delaying the completion, but that I would like him to stay. Then this… Farce could end. It was the only reasonable conclusion.

10 letters, composer of a love dream

Franz Liszt 

11 letter word expressing lasting positive feelings-

Hank stirred beside me. His warm hands found my waist, then deftly began to unbutton my silk pajama shirt.

“Good morning.” I murmured, folding my paper and putting it and my pen neatly on the bedside table.

He wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me down on him. His lips were warm and soft, his body hard below mine. He tugged off my shirt as I dragged the boxers down his legs, both of us desperate for more skin on skin.

“I want you.” He growled. “All of you.”

“Then you had better get the lubricant, Engel.” I smirked.

Ah, Hank. My voracious, insatiable Hank. He grinned at me as he reached over to the bedside table for the bottle. I enjoyed the view, knowing it was shortly going to get even better as he called out my name from below me. 

“Boris? What is this?” He asked, lifting a piece of paper out of the drawer.

As he scanned the note, his smile dropped into a frown. I was going to confine Udo to the holding cell in the basement for writing that note in English. He had to have meant for this to happen, it was the only plausible explanation. It wasn't his place to meddle. There would be retribution.

“The guest house has been done for six weeks. I've been adding projects in a misguided ploy to keep you here with me.” I informed him plainly.

His eyes narrowed. “Boris. Wh-”

“Wait.” I interrupted. “Before you say anything. Come live with me. I love you, and I would like for you to stay here permanently. I went about it the wrongly, but ‘love makes the wisest man a fool’ and living with you has been the happiest time I've ever known. And I love you, Hank. More than I thought possible, more than I thought I was capable of.”

There was an endless moment of silence and then he was on me, his lips crushed to mine. I held him tighter against me, running my hands down his broad back and firmly grabbing ahold of his buttocks.

“Of course I love you. And of course I'll stay.” He said exasperatedly. “But we're going to talk about this later, and I'm going to be furious at you for lying.”

“I expect nothing less.” I assured him.

Then his mouth was on me and he was spreading his legs in open invitation and maybe I wouldn't lock Udo in the dungeon, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Tanz der Vampire is the best musical of the last 30 years. It just is.
> 
> Wenn Liebe In Dir Ist (When Love is in You) is a brilliant, hilarious song.
> 
> You can actually watch a professional recording of the Original Berlin Cast (with English subtitles if you need them) on YouTube.


End file.
